Many
Many will be the stones thrown
Many are the trees cut down
Many have been the people killed
Fearless men, once good and skilled.
Many will be the fields turned to rubble
Many are the soldiers, lost in trouble
Many have been the tears loved ones shed
For sons and fathers, now cold and dead.
Many will be the children wounded by the strife
Many are the songs praising drums and fife
Many have been the faces scarred forever
Faces their children will again see never.
Many will be the bullets sent screaming through the air
Many are the leaders to ambitious to care
Many have been the hands stretched out for help
Spit upon, slashed, and withdrawn with a yelp.
Few will be those who journey to paradise
Few are the inhabitants of the land where no one cries
And many more will die 'ere this world will see
The folly, and the torture of war.